


St Patrick's Day Antics

by GothicLolita009



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicLolita009/pseuds/GothicLolita009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony decide to head to the local St. Patrick's Day Street Festival. Tony opts to go full-blown on the celebrating. Steve is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	St Patrick's Day Antics

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All Avengers-realated characters, etc. belong to Disney/Marvel and their subsidiaries. It is being used without permission and without attempt to copyright any material herein.
> 
> Based on an actual Irish Festival, and an actual event which occurred at said Festival. Names and Locales have been slightly changed to protect the innocent. For those of who are looking for the conclusion to the Christmas Fic, mea culpa. I have lost use of the computer which contained the story. But I will attempt to find a way to continue it.

“Why are you wearing a kilt, again?” 

Steve Rogers' tone was calm and controlled as always, his lips quirked in a smile, the plaid shirt/khaki pant combination actually seeming to fit right in with the crowd. Men and women all around them wandered the streets of Waldorf Hill, bedecked with stupid shamrock-themed hats, plaid almost everything, and lots and lots of green. 

“Because I can,” replied Tony with a grin, opting for a Flogging Molly t-shirt and regular boots to complete the ensemble. His black suit jacket was open, sunglasses balanced as easily as the smile on his face. 

Waldorf Hill was an much older neighborhood in one of the boroughs of New York, and the local St. Patrick's Catholic Church brought in vendors, Irish dancers and pipers, and hundreds if not thousands turned out to enjoy Irish music, food, and fun. Tony had never been, but it was something that he imagined Steve would appreciate when he noticed the advertisement, thanks to JARVIS' able help.

The street was closed off around the festival area, so the two Avengers walked along the old streets, admiring the plum blossoms that heralded the arrival of Spring. Steve had offered Tony his jacket, but he'd waved it off, and Steve said no more about it. The weather was supposed to warm up, anyhow. 

Sitting at a wooden table, adorned by a large golden pot, were those who were accepting the apparently voluntary donations for entrance. Five dollars was the suggested fee, but Tony slipped a pair of crisp twenty-dollar bills into the hand of the mousy-haired young woman with his best smile and a wink. The non-smarmy smile. Steve smiled and gave the tiniest nod as they walked past. 

It was an old street fair, in every sense of the word. Carts adorned with food, goods, and information lay in the small park adjacent to the church, which stood open and stately, welcoming the visitors. The smell of grease, sweets and early-morning coffee filled the air. 

While Tony ambled over to the cart to partake of what was most likely his third or eighth cup of coffee, Steve found a space on the corner, just big enough for two. He had heard from Tony there was a small parade, and the crowd seemed to be gathering on both sides of the thoroughfare for exactly that. Steve could taste the bit of Jameson whiskey in the dark Irish coffee, but let it go. His metabolism wouldn't allow him to get drunk, and the jacket had a collar; the better to scruff Tony with. 

“Seriously, Tony—you're not even remotely Irish. Why are you wearing a kilt? Do you even know what tartan you're wearing?” 

“For your information, Captiain Worrypants, my plaid is much more awesome than the plaid you are wearing. In fact, that's the name of the clan. Clan Awesome. And, much I dislike repeating myself, I am wearing the kilt because I can. C'mon, Cap...it's supposed to be fun for the day.” 

Holding back a laugh, Steve shook his head fondly at Tony, silencing himself as the familiar sound of bagpipes rang from down the street. A large group of bagpipers and drummers came up the street to the familiar notes of Scotland the Brave and much cheering as the parade began. 

To Steve's surprise, Tony knew a few of the songs, and clapped along with the rhythms, even sang under his breath. He surmised it was from all the alcohol and too many MiT parties, but if Tony was having a good time, it didn't matter much. 

And he was having a good time...watching Tony smile at the dancing and change the lyrics of an old Irish song...

_...let them all come as they will,  
For it's my Steve Rogers I'll love still..._

Steve couldn't help but smile at the gesture, the way it was paired with the feeling of Tony Stark's warm, strong fingers intertwining with his own. The parade was a short affair, but highly entertaining and featured policemen and women, in addition to St. Patrick, who held a special place in Tony's heart. Just a little. 

Opening festivities concluded, Tony led the way across the street to the little park, alight with activity. Booths selling clothing, and advertising the local pipe and drums groups, and a giant bouncy castle and slide for the children. They wandered about, sampling large sourdough doughnuts, meat pies, and bought several dozen Welsh cookies for the rest of team. That was mostly Steve's doing. 

As the music played and the dancers danced, Steve did his best to keep Tony's mind off the fact there was and would be alcohol available. It was easy enough to distract him with this tent where one could learn about the history of one's clan, the stage where music played, or some interesting object that would look great in the workshop. 

But it was impossible to avoid the large beer truck entirely. Tony took a half-pint of Guinness in the spirit of the day, even opting to share it with Steve. The Super Soldier didn't much like it, but it kept Tony's wits about him and he didn't go back for more. 

As a particular upbeat song played...it was almost a techno version of an old Irish song, Tony bounced up and down...

And promptly, his kilt fell down about his ankles. Thankfully for the benefit of everyone who had been unfortunate to witness the wardrobe malfunction, Tony had opted not to be entirely traditional. 

The Iron Man boxers were, if Steve had to admit it to no one else, quite fetching. 

 

“Steve—don't you--” 

Before Tony could finish that statement, Steve burst out laughing. He half-collapsed against Tony, burying his face in his shoulder, and Tony thought his jacket was getting wet from Steve's tears of laughter. He just wrapped an arm around Steve, letting him laugh it out...yeah. That had to be the best thing. 

At least until the police showed up.   
**********

“Only you...ONLY you, Stark, could get arrested for public indecency because you forgot to pull your damn kilt back up,” said Phil Coulson as they settled into the back of the limousine that had come to get them. He too had been at the Festival, bedecked in his own clan colors, and only reacted when the police took Tony and Steve both away in handcuffs. 

“In my defense, Steve--” 

“No. I've had enough today, Stark. Let's just—let's just go home.” 

“Seriously though—Iron Man boxers?” asked Clint, who had promptly contacted SHIELD and arranged for the bail, “can you be any more full of yourself, Stark?” 

“I had Captain America ones,” shot back Tony, resisting the urge to both stick out his tongue and flipping Clint off, “but I wanted to surprise Steve with those...” 

Coulson sighed, while Steve flushed beet red. Clint and Tony bickered until Steve gently turned Tony to face him, silencing him with a sweet but insistent kiss. Tony deepened the kiss, lips parting on a sigh. 

“Yeah...sorry,” he said when they pulled away, “didn't know the damn thing was still too big for me.” 

“For once, Stark, it was an actual accident,” said Phil, “I guess we can forgive you this once. Especially since you got us all Welsh cookies.” 

“Tony?” 

Steve's gentle voice brought Tony's head around to settle on his broad shoulder. The strong arm settled around him. 

“That song...earlier...I didn't know you knew it.”

“It's called, “I'll Tell Me Ma,”” Tony explained, “heard it enough in Irish pubs up at MiT. 

In an easy, gentle sort of voice, Tony sang, grinning and unapologetic. 

_Let the wind and rain and hair blow high_  
The snow come tumblin' from the sky  
He's as nice as apple pie  
He'll find a true love, by and by  
When he finds that love of his own,  
He won't tell 'em all when he gets home  
Let them all come as they will--  
For it's Steve Rogers I love still 

_I'll tell me Ma, when I go home_  
The boys won't leave the girls alone  
They pulled my hair, and stole my comb  
But that's all right, till I get home.  
He is handsome, he is pretty  
He's the Prince of New York City  
He is a'courtin; one, two, three  
Please, won't ya tell me, who is he? 

“You're not apple pie, Stark,” said Clint with a grin, “that's Steve.”

“Screw you, Barton.” 

“Clint, really?”


End file.
